


Into The Dark

by ahvengering



Series: Shades Of Black And White [1]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Iron Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bullying, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Knives, M/M, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Sexual Assault, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, They all need hugs, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Underage Drinking, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-12-21 13:45:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11945520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahvengering/pseuds/ahvengering
Summary: Peter and Tony get into a fight over the future of Spider-Man. The fallout is considerable, and the Stark-Rogers family finds itself in the midst of a horrific series of events. They must travel far into the dark before they can ever hope to find the light again.





	Into The Dark

**Author's Note:**

> It's been awhile, but for once I actually have a completed fic for you guys! This is, as usual, pretty dark. Someday, I will write fluffy Superfamily fic to make up for the sheer amount of angst that I write in order to cope with life, but it is not this day. There is rape and sexual assault, as well as overall disturbing behavior here, so tread carefully if that sort of stuff squicks you out. 
> 
> Peace and good pizza to you all.

Peter sat on the outside ledge of his bedroom window in Stark Tower, letting his left leg brush against the cool metal of the building as he stared up at the night sky. The moon was barely a sliver in the sky, stars twinkling down coldly at him from above. The teenager was shivering slightly, but it wasn’t from the chill of night.

He couldn’t believe he’d gotten into a fight with Tony.

Arguments were common in the Stark-Rogers household; they were superheroes who had to save the world on a regular basis, so there were bound to be little disagreements here and there. Peter had gotten into snips and spots of bother with mostly everyone-even Uncle Phil, who he admired more than anyone. But full-on, unresolved, anger-and-spite-fueled fights?

That was most definitely a new thing.

Peter pulled his dark blue hoodie more tightly around himself, shivering as memories of the fight sprung unbidden to mind. He had come home after successfully preventing a multi-car robbery in a local parking garage. With all the adrenaline still coursing through his system, he hadn’t even thought to check his face after being hit in the temple with one of the would-be robbers’ fists. It would be gone by morning with his healing abilities.

When he had entered the common area of Stark Tower, Tony’s face had gone completely white upon seeing the large purpling bruise spread across Peter’s temple. While Steve had immediately gone into action, leaping over the couch to retrieve an ice pack from the freezer and press it to Peter’s face, Tony had simply stood there, staring, fists clenching.

That’s when it had begun. The yelling.

Peter supposed he deserved it. While he’d been spidering around for awhile by now, he’d never allowed any of the Avengers to see his injuries before his superhuman abilities healed them overnight, for exactly this reason. They were protective, and he understood that; but the fight had gone too far, Tony’s final frustrated outburst echoing through Peter’s head.

_You’ll never be an Avenger, Peter, because you’ll just be a liability!_

Both Tony and Peter had stood there in frozen silence for several moments, neither able to believe what had just come out of Tony’s mouth. His father had then picked up his suit from where it had fallen half-out of his backpack and stormed out. Peter had tried to run after him, yelled and thoroughly embarrassed himself. His suit was his most prized possession; and now, it was gone.

He had never told Tony about the bullying he faced every day at school from Flash; how often his shaky confidence had been torn down into rubble, reminding him that he would never be as good as anyone else, and certainly nowhere near the level of the Avengers. He wanted so desperately to help people, to do some good in the world that had done good by him for letting him grow up in an amazing place with the most incredible men and women.

He swiped a hand angrily across his eyes, hot tears smearing across his face. His heart was hammering in his chest, anxiety and sadness stabbing in his every nerve. Abruptly, he grabbed his backpack from the floor below him and dropped from the ledge, wind whistling through his hair as he dropped down past each floor. Finally, he shot his web out, swinging far, far away from the tower until the glowing A was just a dot of light in the distance.

…………

“What the hell were you thinking?”

Tony sat on the expansive bed, head in his hands, as Steve paced back and forth across the floor in front of him, fuming. He had been listening as Tony’s intense worry for Peter had manifested in a heated argument, in which Tony had said all the wrong things at all the wrong times. Steve knew that bawling Tony out wasn’t the answer, but he needed to do something, and he didn’t think Peter would want company after the way Tony had chewed his ass.

Tony sighed, rubbing his hands over his eyes. “I know, okay? Steve, I was worried and I was stupid. I said a lot of things to the kid tonight that I really regret. He needs some rest right now, but I’ll talk to him first thing in the morning.” Though Tony tried to hide it, Steve could see his hands shaking.

Steve sat down next to his husband, wrapping an arm around his husband and pulling him over to lay against Steve’s broad chest. He stroked his hand lazily through Tony’s short black hair, pressing a kiss to the crown.

“You know that I love you and Peter more than anything in this world. When I woke up from that ice, seventy years into the future, I thought I would never have the chance to have this again. I’m grateful every day that I was lucky enough to find you and Peter. To have a family.” He wrapped his other arm around Tony’s back as the man curled into his chest, nuzzling against his chin. “I know that the idea of Peter doing what we do is scary as hell. Neither of us wants to see him get hurt. But he’s got a gift, and he’s the kind of person that knows he needs to use that gift for the good of mankind.” Steve’s voice was soft as he rocked Tony ever so slightly in his arms. “We can protect him, we can guide him, but eventually, he’s going to be just like us. A hero, in every sense of the word. All we can do is support him, just like we do with anyone on our team and in our family.”

Tony sighed, leaning in to kiss the side of Steve’s neck. “Damn it. You always have to be right, don’t you?”

Steve chuckled, hugging Tony tightly as a wave of fondness rushed over him. “I can’t help it.”

“Thank you, Steve.” Tony’s voice was sincere, his beard tickling Steve’s skin as he spoke against the man’s shoulder. “I love you, cupcake.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “You’re welcome…sugar buns.” He shook his head. “No, I can’t do it. I can’t do the stupid pet names.”

Tony grinned, staring up at Steve with wide, bright eyes. “That’s okay, love muffin. That’s more my department, anyways.”

…………

Tony stood in front of Peter’s door, morning light slanting in through the large picture window just down the hall from him. He hadn’t been in the teenager’s room in quite some time, agreeing with Steve to respect their growing boy’s privacy. Both men had vastly different childhood experiences involving space; where Steve had far too little, living in a one-room apartment with his mother, Tony had far too much, wandering the halls of his childhood home and rarely seeing his absentee parents. The two men were always there for Peter, but understood that having a space that was just his was essential to his healthy development, both as a person and a genetically enhanced superhuman.

That was why, when Peter didn’t answer after Tony’s third knock, he began to wonder whether or not it would be an invasion of privacy to override the lock. He was sure the boy was fine; Peter had a habit of blasting music in those ridiculously cheap earbuds of his, shutting out the world and calming his spider senses long enough to relax. But after last night’s fight-well, Tony just needed to know that his son was okay.

“JARVIS, override code Stark Rogers Alpha Mustang Whiskey Twelve.”

The door swung silently inward to reveal a well-lit but empty room. The window was open, dark blue curtains swaying in the breeze.

Tony’s heart plummeted. Peter wasn’t here.

He stepped into the room, glancing around. It was surprisingly clean, for a teenage boy’s room. The walls were a worn blue color and covered with various posters. Tony felt his heart simultaneously ache with pride and guilt when he spotted a few official Stark Industries blueprints, as well as vintage Iron Man and Captain America posters. The desk held stacks of books, papers, and folders, one book open with a page of algebra equations within. His bed was rumpled, but made, and Tony recognized a light blue sweater that Steve had given Peter for his birthday draped across one pillow.

He sighed, dropping into the sturdy wooden desk chair. He and Steve had raised Peter for many years, but now? With a rebellious, headstrong superhuman teenager doing his best to live up to Avengers standards, Tony was far, far out of his depth. Steve was much better at this kind of thing. The Captain always knew what to say to Peter, how to keep a cool head and reason with Peter while still explaining why he felt how he felt. Tony supposed it all came down to role models, in the end. Steve had had Bucky, and Sarah, and even Dr. Erskine, while he had had Howard Stark and a mother who made only occasional appearances.

He stared at the Iron Man poster on the wall. It was centered right above Peter’s bed. Right next to it was the Captain America poster, centered equidistant. He knew that Peter loved Steve; he was the role model, the responsible parent, the man that Tony hoped Peter would turn out to be at least half of. And Tony liked to consider himself the fun parent. He and Peter would work late into the night on ridiculous projects, laughing when the end product was a robot whose only function was making toast. They would go out in sunglasses and hoodies to get shawarma for Tony and sandwiches from Peter’s favorite deli. They would talk for hours about Peter’s school projects, Tony’s latest industry inventions, the Avengers’ latest missions.

He loved his husband and his son with all his heart. He just wished he was better at communicating his love and his worry in a way that didn’t end with him thinking of throwing himself off the top of the tower.

……………

Peter woke up abruptly, sitting up with a gasp and wincing as his neck protested the sudden movement. He looked around, frowning, as he stood slowly, bracing himself against the wet brick wall behind him. He was in a damp alleyway, rain soaked through his hoodie and jeans. Checking his watch, he found that it was nearly ten thirty in the morning. Thanking his lucky stars that he was on summer break from school, he checked his web shooters to find them empty.

Just his luck.

He stood, slinging his backpack across his shoulders and emerging from the alley to find himself next to a bus stop that only looked slightly sketchy. He pulled his phone out of his back pocket, checking his messages.

**_Dad (Tony)_ **

_7:35 AM_

_Hey, kiddo. You awake? I wanna talk to you sometime this morning, so let me know when you’re up. I love you, buddy._

**_Dad (Steve)_ **

_8:14 AM_

_Your father is coming by to see if you’re awake. I know he said things he didn’t mean last night. He loves you very much and he worries about you-we both do. We’ll talk later, too. <frog emoji>_

**_Dad (Steve)_ **

_8:17 AM_

_That was supposed to be a heart. I do not understand your father’s phones. <cactus emoji>_

**_Dad (Steve)_ **

_8:21 AM_

_Darn it._

**_Dad (Tony)_ **

_9:01 AM_

_Where are you? I’m not mad, I understand if you need space. I just want to know that you’re okay._

**_Dad (Tony)_ **

_9:34 AM_

_Peter?_

**_Dad (Steve)_ **

_9:57 AM_

_Peter, please pick up your phone. We are worried about you._

**_Uncle Clint_ **

_9:59 AM_

_Answer ur phone so ur parents don’t make me get out of bed to track u pls thx_

**_Dad (Tony)_ **

_10:23 AM_

_If you don’t text me back in ten minutes, I’m putting on the suit and coming to find you._

Peter grimaced, tapping his phone with chilled fingers.

_omw back_

He shoved his phone into his pocket before either parent could text him back and pulled out his wallet as the 10:30AM bus pulled to a stop in front of him.

…………

A few hours later, Peter walked into the common area of Stark Tower to find Steve sharing a sandwich the size of his head with Clint and Tony pacing the living room. Peter dropped his backpack on the floor beside the refrigerator, opening the cupboard to pull out a jar of peanut butter and a loaf of bread. Tony rushed over, but Steve stopped him with a hand, motioning for him to sit beside Clint, whose focus was entirely on the sandwich in front of him.

Peter felt a warm hand on his shoulder and Steve’s soft voice echoed in his ear. “Peter? Are you okay?”

Any thoughts of playing it cool fled Peter’s head as he abruptly turned and wrapped his arms around his father, hiding his face in his chest as he shook. Steve hugged him close, cupping the back of his head with a gentle hand. Finally, after a few minutes, Peter pulled back, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand and sniffling slightly.

Clint stood, picking up his sandwich and a couple napkins. “I’m gonna go share this with sexy Uncle Phil who’s currently waiting in my bed.” He clapped Peter on the shoulder as he walked by. “Glad you’re back safe, kid.”

Peter grimaced weakly. “Gross. And thanks.”

And then Clint was gone, and it was just him and his dads.

Peter sat down across from Tony, Steve leaning against the counter next to him as the teenager made himself a peanut butter sandwich. When he spoke, his voice was still shaky despite his best attempts to level it.

“I’m sorry I left without telling you.”

“Hey.” Peter looked up, eyes red, as Tony leaned in, taking the butter knife from him and setting it down so he could grab his hands. “It’s okay. We all need space sometimes. Just-usually a text is good. Just so we know you’re not lying in a ditch somewhere.”

Peter nodded silently, gnawing on his lip.

“Where did you stay last night?” Steve asked gently.

“In an alley,” Peter said, wincing when Tony’s nostrils flared. “It was late. I didn’t want to bother anyone.”

“Next time you need to get away for awhile, you better call me,” a female voice said irritably from the vent. “I’ve got a place that none of these idiots could ever find in ten years, and you’re welcome to use it whenever you need it.”

“Thanks for your input, Random Vent Lady,” Tony said sarcastically, “Now go away.”

“Thanks, Nat,” Peter said softly, smiling weakly.

“That’s what aunts are for,” the voice echoed, and then Natasha was gone, the only sign of which was Peter’s tingling spider senses.

Steve plucked worriedly at Peter’s hoodie, still damp from the freezing rain of the previous night. “You weren’t out in the rain, were you?”

Peter nodded hesitantly, opening and then closing his mouth when he found he had no words. He shivered again as a small bead of water trailed its’ way down his spine. “I’m fine.” He took a bite of the peanut butter sandwich, eyes fixated on the table as he spoke his next words almost nonchalantly. “Oh, and dad was right.”

Both men stopped, frowning. Steve sat down next to Peter abruptly as Tony leaned in, mouth hanging open. Finally, he found his voice. “I’m sorry, what?”

“You were right,” Peter said casually, between bites of the sandwich. “I shouldn’t be part of the Avengers. I would be a liability, and you shouldn’t have to be responsible for me when you’re trying to save the world.”

Tony licked his lips, confusion coursing through him as Steve frowned, leaning in. “Peter, you’re not a liability, you’re our son. Tony said a lot of things he didn’t mean last night. While we don’t feel that you’re ready to become part of the team right now, we might talk more about it when you’re done with high school.”

“Nah,” Peter’s voice was too easy, too forced. “Really, it’s fine. I know I’m not good enough.”

“Honey, no,” Tony leaned in, heart filling with guilt. “Peter, you have an amazing gift. I’m so sorry that I said what I said last night. I just-I worry, buddy. I know how it feels to want to save the world. Sometimes, you forget that you occasionally need to save yourself. And I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you because we put you on the team before you were ready.”

“You don’t have to try and baby me, dad,” Peter said quietly, setting the rest of his sandwich down on his plate and pulling himself out of reach of either man. “If you don’t want me on the team, I respect that. I’m not going to try and convince you.” He smiled weakly, his voice lowering to a raspy whisper. “It’s fine.”

Tony’s heart cracked a little as his son turned away from them, picking his backpack up from the floor. “Petey-”

The teenager was gone before Tony could continue his sentence. He put his head in his hands, dragging his fingernails over his scalp as he let out a groan of frustration. “Fuck.”

“Well, that went well,” Steve sighed, staring at the doorway Peter had just exited through. “Why would he tell us that it’s fine? He was so upset yesterday.”

“He’s not fine, Steve!” Tony said irritably, voice raising slightly. He took a deep breath, reigning in his emotions. “He’s pulling away from us because of this and I don’t know how to fix it. I know he wants to be part of the team, but he’s not ready. Not yet, not now. He needs more training, more safeguards in place-”

“Tony,” Steve said quietly, leaning over and taking the man’s hands in his, steadying them. “He’s a teenager. This is part of growing up. I think if we give him some space, he’ll be all right. I’ll go talk to him before dinner; maybe I can put aside some extra time and train with him so that he doesn’t feel like we’re turning him down completely.”

“Yeah…yeah, you’re right. Good plan.” Tony sighed, leaning over to peck Steve on the lips. “I just-when I was that age, I wanted to help my father with some of the tech for the company and he flat out refused to allow me to touch any of it.” He stared down at the table, biting his lip. “I don’t want Peter to go through what I did when that happened.”

“Tony, I know,” Steve said gently. “But Peter has you. You’re ten times the man Howard Stark ever was. If things get worse for him-if he struggles like you did-you can bet that we’ll both be here to support him.”

Tony nodded silently, then leaned forward, wrapping his arms around Steve and clinging to him like a lifeline. The soldier kissed the top of his head, resting his cheek on his short black hair as the afternoon sun shone in through the windows.

……………

Peter took a deep breath, standing on his bedroom windowsill as the setting sun sent orange stripes across the far-off horizon. A deep, bone-chilling sadness was aching somewhere inside his chest. He had only felt this way once before, the day that Uncle Phil had told him that his place with Tony and Steve was only temporary; but that had been fixed. He had stayed with his dads and gained an incredible family.

He wasn’t sure that this situation could ever be fixed.

They didn’t want him on the Avengers, that much was for sure. They could say he ‘wasn’t ready’ all they wanted; Peter knew what that really meant. He just wasn’t good enough. He was just a friendly neighborhood hero, nothing more.

He didn’t even have the suit anymore; during the argument, Tony had taken it, locking it away in a fit of irritation with Peter’s insistence that he would be fine.

He sighed, dropping off the ledge and shooting a web up to the underside to hang upside down, his hair sticking up in every direction. Without Spider-man, he had nothing. There was school, and hanging out with Ned and MJ, and the decathlon team; but none of that even compared to the bone-deep joy of helping others and doing some good in the city he called home. He could do all that without the suit, but it just wasn’t the same.

Peter’s phone buzzed against his hip. He pulled it out of his pocket, taking Ned’s call with one hand and holding on to his web with the other. “Hey, man.”

“Peter!” Ned’s voice was loud, booming music in the background. “Dude, you’ve got to come to Stacey’s party! MJ invited me and she talked to Hank who talked to Maria who talked to Juan who talked to-”

Peter frowned, pulling himself upright, still hanging by the web. “Ned, get to the point.”

“You can come.” Ned was out of breath. Peter could practically picture his grin. “This is huge, man. We never get invited to parties with upperclassmen!”

“Aw, I dunno, Ned,” Peter said wearily, letting go of the web to fall gracefully onto the ledge below. It was the one outside of Phil and Clint’s apartment, but they kept their blinds closed ever since the mashed potato incident, so he figured he was pretty safe. “I got in a big fight with dad yesterday and everything’s all messed up and I-”

“Come on, Peter!” Ned said, mild frustration in his voice. “You’re a teenager. You don’t always have to save the world. Sometimes you can just go to parties and let off a little steam, okay?”

Peter tilted his head, staring at the setting sun. He’d only been to a few parties in his life; they were usually adult-supervised birthday events, and one of the Avengers in a hoodie and sunglasses was always in tow. Tony and Steve had both explained to him many times over that letting him go to things like this alone was a security risk, him being the child of not one, but two high-profile superheroes.

If they found out he’d gone to an unsupervised, alcohol-laden, hormone-filled house party, they’d be pissed.

_Fuck it._

“I’ll be there in ten.” Peter ended the call before Ned could respond, shoving it into his hoodie pocket. He stood, stretching as the excitement of rebellion coursed through him. He was going to go to a party, hang out with his friends, and maybe even get really wasted, like normal teenage boys did. He threw himself off the ledge, grinning as the cold night air rushed over his face. It was time that he took dad’s advice.

For once, all Peter was thinking of was himself.

……………

Peter walked nervously into the front doors of Stacey Malting’s house, loud music pumping and strobe lights flashing from within. He didn’t know Stacey very well. All he really remembered about her was how she had sat behind him in his advanced math class the previous semester and popped her gum every time she wrote down an answer to an equation. It had actually been incredibly annoying; but then again, he wasn’t here for Stacey.

“Peter!”

He looked up to see Ned bouncing towards him in time to the music, followed closely by MJ, who was dressed all in black except for a white tie. Peter gestured vaguely at her outfit, smiling weakly.

“Nice.”

She stared at him. “I’m protesting the murder of penguins by New York City’s zoos by only wearing black and white for the next month.”

He smiled awkwardly, nodding. “Neato.”

“Here.” Ned shoved a bottle with a dark blue and yellow label at him. “It’s some kind of beer. I think. I don’t really know anything about alcohol.”

Peter took a sip and nearly choked. He’d never had alcohol in his life. Tony had sat him down at the beginning of high school and told him his own story regarding alcohol use, and had made Peter promise that, if he was going to drink, he would do it in the tower where Tony could keep an eye on him. Of course, he’d also had to promise that he wouldn’t tell Steve if he did. Steve was still a firm believer that a man should wait to have alcohol until the law decided he should.

The drink felt both horribly wrong and sinfully right as it hit his stomach. He took another pull, swallowing quickly to get the taste out of his mouth. Ned drank his own, coughing like a dork after every sip.

“So why are we here?” Peter asked, not really knowing what to say.

“Well, Stacey’s got a little brother named Colton who’s in our class and he doesn’t have any friends, but I guess you and I were nice to him one time in homeroom, so she said yeah when MJ asked if we could come.” Ned grinned, looking around the room at all the upperclassman that surrounded them.

Peter frowned, turning to MJ. “Wait, how did you get invited?”

She didn’t look at him, staring at a boy across the room who was wearing a strange-looking blue hat. “I told her that she should use different shampoo during gym last week.”

Peter and Ned stared at MJ blankly. She looked at them, raising an eyebrow as though it was obvious. “She dyes her hair. She needs color safe shampoo. It’s not rocket science, nerds.”

“It is to me,” Peter muttered to Ned, confusion in his voice. MJ rolled her eyes and disappeared suddenly, showing up halfway across the room next to the boy with the hat.

“Hey! It’s Penis Parker!”

Peter groaned and turned to face Flash, standing behind him with a shit-eating grin on his face. “What do you want, Flash?”

“How did you and Fat Mexican even get here, Penis?” Flash said mockingly, leaning back against the wall. “I thought they didn’t let nerds into these kinds of gigs.”

“I guess they do, cuz you’re here,” Peter retorted without thinking. He blamed the alcohol in his system.

Flash’s eyes went wide. Suddenly, he laughed; a sincere laugh, not a bit mocking. “Well, look at that. Parker’s growing a backbone.”

Peter said nothing, fingers clenching around the neck of the half-empty beer bottle in his hands. Ned stood slightly behind him, glaring at Flash from around Peter’s shoulders.

Flash leaned back, staring at Peter with a curious look on his face. “Alright, then. Tell you what, we’re even. In fact, we’ve got a little game going on with all the guys here.” He leaned in conspiratorially, grinning. “You kids ever play beer pong?”

………….

Peter and Ned were absolutely hammered.

For Peter, it had taken a considerable amount of drinks, which had definitely put him in good with the upperclassmen, all of whom were impressed with his tolerance levels. Sometimes it paid off to be a genetically altered superhuman. Poor Ned had been gone halfway into his third beer, stumbling around the ping pong table and making lightsaber noises. However, they weren’t the only ones; it was nearly three in the morning, and almost everyone at the house party was drunk.

A small, logical voice that sounded a hell of a lot like Karen echoed in the back of Peter’s head, reminding him over and over what a bad idea this all was, urging him to go home and confess to Tony and Steve, to bring back the solid relationship he’d had with his parents up until now. Another part of him, a much louder part, told him that he was fine. They didn’t want him to be part of their stupid team, much less their family. Why would it matter if he went to a party with his friends and got drunk?

Peter stumbled into the couch with Ned, both boys falling into a heap on the beer-stained cushions. Ned groaned, flopping a hand over his forehead.

“Pete, I’m tellin’ you, I’m not as think as everyone drunks I am,” he drawled, oblivious to the mixed-up words. “S’alllllllll good.”

“Yeah,” Peter said woozily. He could already feel his body sobering up from his enhanced powers, but he had to admit, the floaty feeling had been nice while it lasted. “Yeah, not me. M’fine. Don’ need to be a ‘Venger.”

“Whaaaaat?” Ned drew out the word, laughing in between syllables. “Duuuuuude! You’d make a cool Avenger. You could-” he gasped, eyes widening comically, “Y’could have a suit made of iron. Tha’s never been done!”

Peter chuckled, head lolling back onto the couch. He stared at the sky through the picture window next to them. The stars shone coldly back. It felt like they were judging him.

Then again, the alcohol might have still been affecting his system.

When he looked forward again, there were three upperclassmen in front of them. Ned had dozed off, snoring loudly as he drooled against the arm of the couch. The tallest of them leaned forward, grinning curiously at him.

“Hey. You’re Peter, right?”

He nodded sleepily, unable to move his tongue. The boy grabbed his arm, helping him up as he spoke. “There’s some guy outside who wants to see you. Said something about driving you home.”

Peter felt the logical part of his brain cringe. So his dads had found out. Happy was probably waiting out in the car to make sure he got home safe, so that they could lecture him until the sun came up and ground him until he was twenty-five. He stumbled to his feet, the other three teenagers keeping a firm grip on him as they helped him towards the living room door-but instead of leading him down the hallway towards the porch, they led him further into the house. Peter blamed his intoxicated brain for not remembering where the door was, nearly falling a few times as his feet caught on nothing. Finally, the oldest boy opened a door, shoving Peter through it.

He tripped, falling forwards onto his face and wincing as he clipped his forehead on the edge of some piece of furniture. Rolling over, Peter felt his brain start to panic as he realized that he wasn’t where he was supposed to be; he was in a darkened bedroom.

“Uh, guys?” His voice was slurred, tongue feeling too big for his mouth. “’M s’posed to be outside-”

“Shut up, kid!” One of the boys laughed, kicking him hard in the back of the head. Peter’s vision wavered as he dipped in and out of consciousness, the combined effects of the harsh kick and the alcohol that was still clinging desperately to his system. He felt hands grabbing him, dragging him up and onto the bed. Fingers tangled through his short brown waves, pulling harshly to keep him, working at the belt on his jeans as he tried desperately to drag himself away. He let out a short yell, but was quickly silenced with a hard punch that split his lip, his head lolling to the side.

The hands dipped into his boxer shorts and Peter kicked out with all his might, yelling as his heart raced with adrenaline. His hoodie was yanked off and tossed onto the floor, leaving him in his white undershirt. They punched him over and over until his face was bloodied and bruised, his voice gone from yelling and screaming for someone, anyone, to save him.

“Hey, Skip, get his pants off already, wouldja? I gotta be home before my ma wakes up at five.”

“I’m getting to it, hold your horses,” the tallest one growled. Peter whined desperately as his jeans were dragged roughly to his ankles, boxers following quickly. He wriggled back and forth, his fuzzy brain doing its’ best to get him out. The one who had spoken before, with bright blonde hair that shone even in the dark, grabbed Peter’s hands and tied them behind his back before flipping him over onto his front. He giggled, smacking Peter’s ass with a free hand and kneading his fingers into the flesh of Peter’s thigh.

“He’s got some meat on him, doesn’t he? You ever think of working out, Parker?”

Peter wasn’t pudgy-his enhanced super state ensured that-but he couldn’t help the shame that welled up inside him, watering the seeds of self-loathing that had been planted and carefully cultured for years with Flash’s careful attentions.

Panic suddenly overtook every other emotion in his head as he felt the one named Skip press up against his backside, making his intentions known.

“What a sweet boy,” Skip crooned, “Too bad you’re not going to be worth anything after this.”

Skip pushed against him and Peter’s world exploded in pain, shards of glass stabbing his mind over and over until his throat gave out from the screams and his vision went white. It was over in a matter of minutes, but it felt like hours. It hurt worse when the other two boys followed, the last one taking the longest, pulling out at the last minute to spend himself over Peter’s bare back. He whimpered, pressing his face into his arm as his brain struggled to pull itself back online.

Skip leaned over, whispering into Peter’s ear as he stroked a hand down his neck. “Thanks, baby. It was real good for us.”

Peter passed out.

……………

Pain.

Pain like needles, stabbing into his skull over and over. Like concrete, crushing his lungs until he was desperate for air. Like fire, burning his skin into a mass of exposed nerve, every brush of air a torture all its’ own.

Peter opened his eyes with a gasp, chest heaving.

He was in an unfamiliar bedroom, the door shut, grey clouds blocking the weak morning light outside the window. Memories of the previous night came rushing back and he closed his eyes, a torrent of emotions rushing through him.

Peter sat up slowly, wincing at the raw pain in his backside and on his face. He pulled his clothes back on, drawing the hood over his bruised and scratched face. Every movement was an ordeal, his skin crawling with the feeling of hands that weren’t his own skating over the surface. Thankfully, they hadn’t been sober enough to notice his web shooters hidden up his sleeve, nor the phone that had bounced underneath the dresser when they shoved him to the floor. Crouching next to the bed as he tried to catch his breath, Peter checked his phone, wincing when he saw that it was almost six am. He had one message, from Steve.

**_Dad (Steve)_ **

_9:59 PM_

_I came by but you didn’t answer the door. I was hoping we could talk. Maybe we can go out for sandwiches from the deli tomorrow? I love you, buddy._

Peter’s breath caught in his throat, tears springing unbidden to his eyes. He definitely couldn’t tell his parents. They would be furious with him. Besides, it was all his fault. He’d been stupid, gotten drunk at a party and trusted people he didn’t even know.

Tony was right. He was a liability. How could he ever be an Avenger if he couldn’t even protect himself?

After several minutes of deep breathing, Peter was able to make his way to the window, dropping out of it and letting out a pained yelp as he hit the ground clumsily. Somehow, he made it home; he didn’t trust himself to use his web, so he walked to the nearest bus stop and took one back to the tower. He snuck in through the back entrance that Tony used to transport tech, making his way up to his floor and ignoring the trickle of blood that was making its’ way down the leg of his jeans. He finally got to the living room, heading into the kitchen as quietly as he could and opening the freezer, pulling out three different ice packs and grabbing the towel that Steve kept on the handle.

He practically jumped out of his skin when he shut the freezer door to find Clint standing there, staring at him. The archer narrowed his eyes, frowning as Peter did his best to hide his face in his hoodie, focusing on the ice packs in his arms.

“Peter…” Clint leaned forward, sniffing, then raised an eyebrow. “You smell like a brewery.”

“I, uh-I was out last night and I tripped and fell into a dumpster behind a liquor store,” Peter stammered. He cursed himself for not coming up with a better excuse.

Clint frowned suspiciously. “Smells more like you fell into a vat of homebrew.” He winked at Peter, opening the cupboard to grab a box of Nilla wafers. “Come on, kid, it’s just ol’ Uncle Clint. You can tell me. God knows I did enough stupid shit in my day.”

“I-I didn’t, I-I swear, I didn’t,” Peter said unsteadily, backing away and bumping into the counter in his haste. One of the ice packs dropped to the floor, cracking against the linoleum, and he flinched violently. Clint frowned, concern appearing in his eyes. “P-please, Uncle Clint, please d-don’t tell my d-dads, I just-”

Peter ran. He didn’t know what else to do. He locked his bedroom door behind him, shaking like a leaf as raw pain coursed through his body. Stripping off his hoodie, he leaned against his dresser, nails scratching into the sides of it as he stared at his face in the mirror. His face was bruised and battered, lip badly split. The collar of his white undershirt was splattered with dried blood. He turned away, reaching to grab the first aid kit from where it was pinned between the wall and the dresser before walking shakily into his bathroom.

He cleaned himself up as best he could. The trail of dried blood down the back of his leg terrified him, but he couldn’t afford to go to the medical wing in the tower; Steve and Tony would find out. He probed himself with a hesitant finger, heart pounding as it came away with a small smear of blood. Gently, he applied disinfectant cream, hands shaking with every movement. He bent over the sink when he was done, head pounding with dizziness as his fingers brushed against the left side of his lower back.

That was when he felt the dried ejaculate.

Peter couldn’t help it; he fell to his knees, vomiting violently into the toilet as hot tears streamed out of his eyes, the reality of what he had gone through finally hitting home. He heaved, bile spilling into the toilet as he sobbed. The physical pain was nothing, not when compared to the deep ache in his heart and the knowledge that his father was right; he was just a liability, and nothing more.

After several minutes of hiccupping sobs, he was able to stand, washing off his back and pulling on a fresh gray shirt and sweatpants. Peter turned off the lights and crawled into bed with the ice packs pressed to his face, the darkness of the room welcoming him and lulling him into a deep, dreamless sleep.

……………

Peter startled awake hours later to someone pounding on his door, yelling his name in a voice that didn’t sound like it would be happy to see him.

“Peter Benjamin Stark-Rogers, open this door. Now.”

Peter rolled out of bed, whimpering as pain shot up his back. He staggered to the door, flipping on the lights and throwing it open. Tony was standing on the other side, flanked by Steve. Both men had their arms crossed and looked upset, but that was nothing compared to what happened when they saw Peter.

Belatedly, Peter remembered that he should have covered his face somehow.

Tony’s face went completely white, while Steve turned eight shades of red. The captain stepped forward, anger in his eyes. “Who did this to you?”

“It’s n-nothing. Just a fight.” Peter looked down at the floor, wincing as the words pulled at his split lip.

“Are you gonna tell us why you were out drinking last night?” Tony spat angrily. He held up his phone and Peter’s heart sank. On it was a picture of him and Ned. Ned was leaning against Peter, laughing about something, while Peter was making a stupid face, holding a beer in his hand. Bottles littered the floor at their feet, the beer pong table surrounded by people in the background. If that wasn’t enough damning evidence, the caption read “Penis Parker and his boyfriend are #wasted #drunknerds”.

Peter shifted, holding in a whimper as another bolt of pain shot up his back. “Dad, I swear, it’s not what it looks like-”

“It’s exactly what it looks like!” Tony yelled, shoving the phone at Steve and stepping into Peter’s room, forcing him to back away. “You felt like a bit of teenage rebellion, so you went to some stupid party and got wasted!”

“Peter, what were you thinking?” Steve asked, disappointment clear in his voice. Peter’s heart dropped; disappointed Steve was the worst Steve. “You know that’s dangerous, especially for you.”

“You’re irresponsible!” Tony raved, throwing his hands in the air. “I can’t believe you would do something like this, Peter. You know how stupid that was, right?”

“Y-yes,” Peter mumbled. He sniffled, trying desperately to hold back the tears that were threatening.

“You’re grounded, officially. For a month, at the least.” Tony’s voice was tight, jaw clenched. “No spidering around, no socializing with your so-called ‘friends’ who posted drunk pictures of you online, and definitely no activities outside the tower that aren’t strictly academic. You aren’t leaving here unless it’s for school or with one of us, and you’re certainly not going to the decathlon competition in New Jersey next week.”

Peter said nothing, keeping his head faced towards the ground so that neither of the men would see the tears that had started trailing down his face.

“Peter,” Steve said softly, stepping forward. “This is for your own good. We don’t want you to get hurt, and things like this? Nothing but trouble, kiddo.”

Peter nodded weakly as Tony held out his hand. “Web shooters.”

“Wh-what?” Peter’s heart clenched in terror. He wouldn’t…would he?

“I need to know that you’re not going to be sneaking out behind our backs,” Tony snapped, “Because right now, I have zero trust in you, Peter. So give me your web shooters.”

Peter pulled up the sleeves of his hoodie, shaking hands scrabbling at the delicate metal encasing his hands. He dropped the shooters into Tony’s outstretched hand, sniffling and wiping his nose on his sleeve.

“Peter,” Steve said softly, concern in his voice. He reached out, pulling Peter’s chin up with a finger to reveal the tears streaming down his face. “Honey, what’s going on? This isn’t you.”

“I don’t know what’s gotten into your head,” Tony spat out, turning away to stand in the doorway. “But I’ll tell you what, Peter; behavior like this isn’t going to earn you a place on the team. You think about that.”

Tony stalked out and Peter fell backwards, shock coursing through him. Of course. He was stupid. He was so stupid. He would never be on the Avengers team, not now. He put his head in his hands as the bed dipped beside him and Steve’s large hand gently rubbed his back.

“Your father isn’t as angry with you as he seems, Peter. We both love you so much and we don’t want to see you get hurt.” Steve’s voice was soft, reassuring, but Peter felt hollow, heart frozen inside his chest. “His father was a real piece of work, and he doesn’t want any of that to carry into his own parenting. He’s doing the best he can to protect you.”

Peter stared at the floor, saying nothing.

“Just remember that we both love you,” Steve said quietly, pressing a kiss to Peter’s short brown hair before standing and crossing to the door. “And make sure to put some ice on those bruises. It’ll help your healing factor.”

……………

“Hey, Peter! Wait up!”

Ned jogged up to walk alongside Peter on their way out of homeroom at the end of the day. Peter didn’t react, keeping his eyes trained forward and focusing on putting one foot in front of the other, regardless of the soreness in his backside.

“Where’d you disappear to at the party the other night? MJ wanted to see if we could all go to her house and watch horror films until we were sober but you were gone.”

“I j-just went…home,” he said lamely, the hood over his face muffling his words.

“Home?” Ned said, shocked. “Dude, did your dads find out?”

Peter nodded, gripping his backpack tighter with bruised knuckles as they approached the lockers.

“Holy shit. Are you grounded?”

He nodded again, gritting his teeth as he forced the next words out. “They took my suit. And the shooters.”

“What? No!” Ned gasped, turning to face Peter. He balked when he caught a glimpse of his face. “Dude, what happened to your face?”

“I fell.”

Ned raised his eyebrows, pursing his lips in disapproval. “Yeah, you fell. I’m not stupid, Spider-man.” His eyes widened and he leaned in, hissing his next words. “You didn’t go out without the suit, did you?”

Peter shook his head, eyes darting around the hallway as the crowd of students grew denser and louder.

“Peter, come on,” Ned whined. “You’re all banged up and you look like you haven’t slept since Mr. Stark invented the Iron Man Mark I.”

“Most people don’t measure time according to Tony Stark,” Peter said sarcastically, turning and opening his locker to grab his earbuds and put away his Chemistry textbook.

“Did Flash beat you up?” Ned said curiously. “He was pretty sore that you out-drank him last night.”

“Ned, just drop it, okay?” Peter said harshly, slamming his locker shut.

Ned’s mouth opened slightly, then he shut it with a snap, a wounded look on his face. “Fine. I’ll see you later.”

Peter watched, heart aching with guilt as his best friend walked away, shoulders hunched in hurt.

He ruined everything.

“Well, well. Little Penis Parker.”

The voice in his ear, the hot breath on his neck had Peter whipping around in fear. That voice had been on top of him not so long ago, turning his heart to ice and his brain to mush.

A tall, slender, blonde boy stood there, and Peter suddenly realized he had seen him before. He had once been on the decathlon team, but had been kicked out just after Peter joined as a freshman because he’d cheated on an important end-of-year exam. He was the Flash of the senior class; the most popular, the most wealthy, and, according to Stacey, the most handsome.

Skip Jones leered down at him, leaning against the locker. “Say, I had a lot of fun the other night. Wanna do that again some time?”

“G-get the hell away from m-me,” Peter stuttered, backing up and nearly tripping over his backpack.

Skip laughed maliciously, grabbing Peter’s arm in a death grip under the guise of steadying him. “I think you enjoyed it. I have to admit, the nickname Penis really works for you. You love dick enough.”

“Fuck off, asshole.” The words were out of Peter’s mouth before he could think it through. He didn’t swear much-Steve wasn’t a fan of it, whereas Tony had a sailor’s mouth on him-so it was as much a shock to him as it was to Skip.

The other boy didn’t take it well.

He grabbed Peter, looking around at the slowly dissipating after-school crowd and grinning when he saw that nobody was paying attention. He leaned in as Peter struggled against his grip, not wanting to make a scene by using his super strength. “You and me are gonna have a chat about disrespect.”

Before Peter knew it, he’d been dragged into the bathroom by the scruff of his neck. Skip threw him bodily across the room, slamming him into the metal garbage can. Peter gasped as the corner of the bin caught his temple, nicking him and sending blood dripping down the side of his already bruised face.

Skip stepped forward, pulling a short knife out of his pocket and leaning over him. Peter threw his fist out wildly, catching Skip in the jaw and knocking him backwards. He scooted away into the stall, but Skip was fast, smashing his fist into Peter’s face and sending his head smashing into the rim of the toilet. Peter’s head spun, eyesight going fuzzy as Skip grabbed him, turning him over and yanking off his sweater and button-up shirt to reveal his pale, freckled back. Peter’s head lolled against the toilet seat, eyes unfocused as Skip lowered the knife to his skin.

Peter let out a shrill scream as the cold metal sliced shallowly into the skin of his back.

Skip shoved Peter’s balled-up sweater into his mouth, muffling his screams as he continued to carve. After ten torturous minutes, he pulled away, grinning at his handiwork. He let go of Peter, shoving him onto the floor with his boot and dropping his shirt onto his bloodied back.

“Til next time, Penis.”

Peter barely heard him, his ears ringing as he groaned. The bathroom door swung shut as Peter threw out a hand, slipping and sliding on the blood that smeared the crisp white tiles of the linoleum. He groaned again as his back twinged with every movement, head swimming from the wound on his temple. His hands were slick with his own blood, mouth tasting like bile.

After several minutes, he slowly sat up, whimpering as sharp pain shot through him. Standing shakily, Peter picked up his shirt and sweater, turning so that his back was facing the mirror, and looked over his shoulder. He sucked in a shocked breath.

Between his shoulder blades, the word ‘faggot’ dripped with blood.

He bit his lip, turning away and closing his eyes as he pulled on his shirt, not bothering to button it before pulling the sweater over it. His healing factor would take care of it in a matter of days, as long as it didn’t become infected. The emotional impact; well, Peter filed away his feelings for later as he grabbed his backpack off the floor to cover the bloodstain working its’ way through his shirts.

All he could do was hope for the best and make sure that his dads never, ever found out how much of a liability he really was.

………….

Peter groaned internally as he walked into the living room of the Stark Tower penthouse to find all of the Avengers gathered around the television, engrossed in the newest James Bond film. He’d completely forgotten about movie night, hoping that he could quietly sneak to his room and remove his blood-soaked shirt. Thankfully, his backpack covered it for now, but he could feel it dripping slowly down towards his pants, soaking the waistband of his green boxers.

“I’m telling you, Clint, the guy looks like you. Phil sees it.”

Clint rolled his eyes at Tony as Phil shrugged. “Clint’s handsome, Daniel Craig is handsome. That’s a fair similarity-Peter, are you all right?”

Peter leaned against the kitchen island, exhaustion overtaking him as Tony and Steve both stood, rushing over to him. Steve gently cupped Peter’s face in his hands. The bruises from the other night had faded significantly, thanks to his healing factor, but he cursed himself as he realized that he hadn’t covered the thin gash in his temple from the fall against the garbage bin. Tony’s voice was soft and full of worry as he spoke. “Peter, what happened?”

“I-” He abruptly realized that he didn’t even have an excuse. Peter lowered his head, staring at the floor as his face burned with embarrassment. “Some guy, in the bathroom. He shoved me against the metal garbage bin.”

Steve frowned, eyebrows furling. “Is this the same guy who beat you up at that party the other night?”

Peter bit his lip, nodding. He braced himself on the counter with one hand as his knees began to buckle. The blood from his back had dripped all the way down to the top of his backside, soaking the waistband of his jeans. Steve grabbed his arm, holding him upright as Tony gently snapped his fingers in front of Peter’s face. Their voices became a blur as Peter found it harder and harder to stay conscious; the blood loss had started to get to him.

“Woah, buddy-you okay?”

“I think he might have a concussion-Tony, get some ice.”

“Peter. Peter, can you hear me?”

“Peter!”

He shook his head slowly, feeling as though he was underwater. Everything was hazy, his parents becoming a blur as his head spun. “D-dad? Wha-”

Steve appeared in front of him, kneeling and staring concernedly into his eyes. “Peter, just focus on me and stay awake, okay? Can you do that for me?”

“This isn’t a concussion, there’s no way.”

“Then what the fuck is it, Bruce?”

“Language, Tony!”

“Well, honestly, it seems more like blood loss, but that doesn’t make sense from a little jab like that, especially with his healing factor-”

Peter groaned, his mind struggling to catch up to the words being spoken. “B-back…my back…”

“His back-Steve, turn him over, now!”

Peter felt someone gently shifting him, one of Steve’s large hands on his upper arm and one on his side. He sucked in a breath as the movement pulled at the wound on his back that was slowly coming into view.

“Shit! Get his shirt off. Bruce, get your kit.”

“I’ll get it.”

“Thanks, Nat. Jesus, where the hell is all that blood coming from?”

Peter’s consciousness rushed back to him as warm hands crept under his button-up and sweater, attempting to pull them off of him. He pulled away quickly, yelping in a very undignified manner. “N-no! No! I’m f-fine!”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Oh, you’re fine? I think the blood staining my white kitchen linoleum would beg to differ!”

“Peter, take off your shirt, please,” Bruce said quietly. “We know you’re hurt. Just let us help you.”

“I can’t,” he whispered. “I can’t, because you were right. Dad, you were right.”

Steve and Tony both leaned in, frowning. Tony spoke, voice wary. “About what?”

“I-I should n-never be in the Avengers.” Peter’s voice was raw, and he sounded so terribly young. “I c-can’t even protect myself. I’m a liability.”

Tony felt guilt flood through his system. “I didn’t mean that-”

“Y-you were right.” Tears were flooding down Peter’s face now, unbidden and unwanted. He sniffled, swiping angrily at his eyes with the back of his hand. “You were right.”

“Peter, take off your shirt,” Steve said, voice low and slightly shaky.

Peter sat up slowly and pulled his sweater over his head with a whimper of pain that had both Tony and Steve’s hearts clenching in worry. It was the blue sweater that Tony had seen draped across his pillow, the one that Steve had given him for his birthday. His fingers fumbled over the buttons of his plaid shirt as he undid them one by one, shaking more with each button. Finally, the shirt came off, Peter deliberately keeping his back to the kitchen island and his gaze locked on the floor below.

“Peter,” Tony said softly. He reached out, taking Peter’s hand and squeezing it gently as he leveled his gaze with the teenager’s fear-filled blue eyes. “You are not a liability. You never have been and you never will be anything but a strong young man with a big heart who wants to save the world, and we are so proud of you.”

He nodded shakily, taking a deep breath, and turned around, heart aching as he showed his parents the wound on his back.

Shocked silence filled the kitchen.

“Oh my god.”

Peter winced at the raw anger in Tony’s voice. Steve’s voice, when he spoke, was softer, full of deep sympathy. “Peter, who did this to you?”

“One of the seniors,” Peter whispered, staring at the legs of a chair standing next to him. “He dragged me into the bathroom and held me down and-” He broke off, voice shaking too much to continue.

Bruce began to gently dab at the cuts with an antiseptic wipe as Tony scooted forward so that he could face Peter. His emotions were at war, anger and shock and sadness all playing out on his face as he brushed Peter’s sweat-damp hair out of his eyes. “Sweetheart, why would they do this?”

 “I d-don’t know.” It was a lie. Peter knew exactly why Skip had done this; a reminder of that night and all the things that had happened to him in that dark room.

“Tomorrow, I’ll be talking to the administration,” Tony said firmly as he and Steve helped Peter stand. “Do you know the name of the bastard?”

“Skip.” Peter’s voice was heartbreakingly quiet. “But it’s a nickname. I don’t know his actual name.”

“We’ll take care of it, kiddo,” Steve said softly, putting an arm around Peter’s shoulders as he and Tony led him to his bedroom. They stopped in the doorway and Peter turned to face them. He was still bare-chested, the edges of his boxers sticking up over the waistband of his jeans from where he’d slid to the floor. He looked so young and scared. Tony knew that look; it was a look he’d worn many times, the look of someone too young to be haunted by something far, far too old for them.

“Peter…” Tony led him to the bed, sitting down next to him as Steve went back to the kitchen to clean up the mess there. “Are you sure there’s nothing else?”

Peter looked down at his lap, picking at a loose thread in his jeans. “I told you everything I know.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Tony said gently. “Are you sure nothing else happened with Skip?”

Peter bit his lip. He’d tried so hard to hold it in, to keep his parents from knowing how useless he really was; but he couldn’t do it, not anymore. “He…he touched me. At the party.”

Tony let out a long breath, looking at Peter with sympathy. Then, the whole conversation took a far different turn than Peter had expected. “Buddy, it’s okay. I experimented when I was your age, too. Hell, I don’t know anyone that didn’t!”

Peter’s eyes widened in dismay. His father thought he’d been engaging in consensual, underage sex. Things could not possibly get any worse.

Until they did.

“I’m just sorry you didn’t feel like you could tell me or your father that you were thinking of having sex,” Tony said with just an edge of stern to his voice, “so that we could give you some condoms and maybe a talk on sexually transmitted infections.”

“S-Sexually transmitted what?” Peter’s heart dropped to his toes. He hadn’t even considered whether or not Skip might have given him something.

“I don’t know how your system would react to something like that,” Tony admitted, “being a genetically modified superhuman and all that jazz.” He must have seen the fear in Peter’s eyes, because he hastily backtracked. “But I’m sure you’re fine, Petey, don’t worry. If you want, we can have Bruce run some tests to make sure.”

Peter swallowed harshly. He had no idea what to say. “I-dad, I didn’t-”

“Use protection. I know, Peter, but it’s okay,” Tony said softly, taking his hand and squeezing it gently. “We learn and we grow. That’s how life happens.”

Peter stared blankly at the floor, heart feeling empty and hollow. His voice sounded absolutely wrecked when he spoke. “Y-yeah.”

“For next time, though,” Tony dug around in his pocket and pulled out a strip of three condoms, and despite the utter wreckage that was the conversation, Peter couldn’t help but cringe at finally getting the sex talk from his father, not to mention that his father just happened to carry condoms with him wherever he went. He took them gingerly, setting them on top of the Advanced Calculus book on his desk as the absurdity of the situation finally settled in his brain. “Do you know how to put them on? Not just for you, but also in case your partner is male and doesn’t know how.”

“Dad!” Peter choked out, staring incredulously at him.

Tony chuckled. “Sorry. You can probably figure that out on your own. Just-” He sighed, smiling fondly at his son. “You’re growing up so quickly, Peter. Feels like yesterday you were a little three-year-old brat that Phil let us keep because we fell in love with you, and now you’re a young man.” He put his hand on Peter’s knee, looking into his eyes with sincerity as Peter stared back, more than a little uncomfortable. “I just want to make sure you know that you can always come to me or Dad with anything. Anything at all, okay? We’re always here for you, no matter how grown up you are.”

Peter nodded, lowering his gaze to the floor as he mulled over the irony of Tony’s words.

He had no idea how much Peter was facing right now.

………….

The ride to school the next day was a somber affair. Instead of taking the bus like he usually did, Peter found himself being escorted by Steve and Tony in the Stark Industries limo. His face burned red hot as he hurried inside a few steps ahead of his parents.

“Office’s that way,” he mumbled, throwing a hand down the hallway before drawing his backpack tighter onto his shoulders and trudging towards the lockers.

“We love you, buddy!” Tony’s voice carried after him and a few of the older students laughed as Peter groaned internally.

Iron Man and Captain America, despite being the world’s greatest superheroes, were also often embarrassing parents.

“Dude, why did your parents drive you today?” Ned’s voice sounded from behind Peter as the teenager whipped around in surprise. “Did something happen? Is this part of your punishment?”

Peter looked around, then turned to Ned, lowering his voice. “You know Skip?”

Ned frowned. “The senior class president? Well, yeah. He’s only the most popular guy in the entire school, dude. Flash wants to be him when he grows up.”

“Yeah, well, Flash doesn’t strike me as the kind of person to attack someone in the bathroom,” Peter said darkly, eyes flicking up and down the hallway as Ned’s eyes widened in shock.

“Skip attacked you? Holy shit! When did it happen? Did you beat him up? Did your parents find out? Oh my god, are they gonna kill him? What if-”

“Ned, calm down, jeez,” Peter chuckled weakly. “They’re not going to kill him. They just came to talk to the principal. They want to keep the police out of it, since they’re Avengers and all that.”

Ned’s eyes went comically wide at that. “The police? Holy shit, Peter, what did he do to you?”

Peter looked down at the floor. “He kind of slammed me against a metal trash can and took a knife to my back.”

“Oh my god,” Ned was breathless, real concern appearing in his eyes. “Dude, are you okay? Is it gonna scar?”

“Probably not, since superhuman healing abilities and all that,” Peter said, sighing slightly as the overhead intercom beeped to life. “I just-”

“Peter Parker, please report to Principal Harris’s office, please.”

Peter sighed, slamming his locker shut. “I’ll see you in homeroom. Don’t tell anyone what’s going on, especially not MJ. She’d freak.”

“What should I tell her? She’s gonna ask where you are!”

He walked towards the principal’s office at a brisk pace, not replying to Ned’s question as dread for the upcoming conversation filled him.

When he stepped into the small, sterile-smelling space, the first thing he saw was an unfamiliar man and woman sitting in a pair of plush armchairs, Skip curled up between them and crying on the woman’s shoulder. Across the office, Tony and Steve were standing, looking indescribably angry and glaring at the boy. Principal Harris sat at his desk, glasses low on his nose and tie already loosened for what was going to be a very interesting conversation, Peter could already tell.

“Ah, Mr. Parker.” Harris sat up, gesturing to the seat across from his desk. “Sit down, if you would.”

“I-I’d prefer to stand,” Peter said quickly. His heart was racing; what was going on?

“Mr. Westcott was just explaining to us his view of the events that took place the other day in the bathroom,” Harris said briskly.

“Steven would never hurt a fly, I swear!” The woman was nearing tears as well, her voice trembling as she supported her blubbering son. “He’s such a good boy. ASB president, basketball captain-well, you know him, Mr. Harris!”

“And Peter would never lie about something like this,” Tony argued, glaring angrily at the woman. “He came home covered in blood and all we could get out of him was your goddamn son’s name!”

“Let’s keep this discussion civil, please, Mr. Stark,” Harris said dryly. “Mr. Westcott, we don’t want to get the police involved if we don’t have to. If you confess right here, right now, the Stark-Rogers family is perfectly happy to accept your expulsion as an adequate consequence.”

“Expulsion?” The older, bald man that Peter assumed was Skip’s father wore a look of outrage, the nerves at the edge of his face beginning to pop out. “How the hell is my son supposed to get the education he needs if he’s expelled? This is the best school in New York!”

“Your son just gravely assaulted my son,” Steve said coldly. “Trust me, expulsion is the absolute least of all his possible consequences right now.”

“Wha-the party wasn’t even on school grounds!” Skip spoke up suddenly, voice shaking with fear, and Peter felt his stomach drop when he realized that Skip had misunderstood Steve’s words. “It’s not-it’s got nothing to do with this!”

Mr. Harris leaned forward. “I beg your pardon?”

Skip looked around nervously, then leaned forward. “Look. I’m not proud of what I did, but it wasn’t even my fault! He was practically begging for it. Besides, it was Joe’s idea.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Tony snarled.

Skip leaned back, looking confused. “Isn’t this about the assault?”

A heavy silence fell over the room. When Steve spoke, his voice was like ice. “What assault?”

Peter swallowed heavily as he watched realization dawn over Skip’s face. It was time to come clean. “Dad, I…I tried to tell you. I really did.”

Tony frowned, tilting his head. “Peter, what-”

“Look, whatever I said, just ignore it,” Skip said, throwing up his hands and leaning back, nervousness and fear written all over his face as he abruptly realized that he’d dug himself deeper into the hole. “I don’t-I mean, I didn’t-it wasn’t my idea!”

Mr. Harris sighed. “Boys-”

“Mr. Harris, could I talk to my dads alone for a minute?” Peter’s voice was shaking, his palms horribly sweaty. He didn’t want to tell them, but he had no choice. There was no good way out of this, and he’d rather they found out from him.

“Of course, Peter.” Tony and Steve followed Peter out of the office and into the adjacent meeting room, currently empty. He stood with his back to the whiteboard, fear coursing through him as he picked at a loose string on his sweater.

“What’s going on, Peter?” Steve looked equal parts worried and frustrated. “You didn’t lie about Skip, did you?”

“No!” Peter practically shouted, then reigned in his emotions when he saw the shock on his dads’ faces. “I’m sorry. I didn’t lie. But I-I also didn’t tell the whole truth, either.”

Tony frowned. “Peter-”

“I know why he carved that…that word into my back,” he said softly, hands gripping the back of a rolling chair tight in an attempt to calm the shudders that were threatening to overwhelm his body.

“Peter, you don’t have to do this.” Steve’s voice was soft and reassuring, flowing through Peter like he’d been dropped into a warm bath.

He shook his head, irritation spiking as hot tears leaked out the corners of his eyes. “No, you need to know…why.” He took a deep breath. “That night-at the party, I mean-Skip, he…”

God, how could he even say it?

Tony and Steve were staring at him expectantly, both with worried looks on their faces. When Tony spoke, his voice was low. “I asked you if you had sex with Skip the other night and you said yes. Is that what this is about?”

Steve stared at Tony in shock as Peter bit his lip, staring at the floor so that neither man would see the tears starting to stream down his face. “S-sort of. But I-”

“You…Peter, is that right?” Steve looked shocked, eyes wide. “You’re-you did-you had-”

“I never said that I wanted to.”

There.

It was out, for better or for worse.

Peter couldn’t bear to look up from the tile floor he’d fixated his eyes on. He didn’t want to see the disappointment in his parents’ faces. His breathing began to quicken, guilt and fear filling him. What would they do, now that they knew what a liability he was? Would they lock him away forever in the tower to keep him safe from the world he wasn’t able to protect himself against? What if they kicked him out of the family altogether, deciding that he wasn’t even worthy of protecting? After all, he was defiled now, ruined by Skip’s horrid touch. Peter felt his back bump against the wall, his breathing coming far too fast as tears blurred his vision. His heart was pounding in his chest, shaking arms wrapped around his chest.

“Peter, sweetheart-breathe with me, okay?”

He sucked in a shaky breath, reaching up to rub his eyes with the back of his hand. Steve was standing in front of him, a hand stretched out close to him but deliberately not touching him. Tony was in the background, a look of absolute horror on his face.

“I gave you condoms. I gave you condoms after you tried to tell me you’d been-that he’d-”

Steve looked into Peter’s eyes as the teen hyperventilated, shaking violently against the board behind him. “Take a deep breath for me, okay? You’re going to be okay. Everything is okay. Just take a deep breath.” He nodded, smiling encouragingly and keeping his voice soft as Peter gasped out a breath, eyes closing as he tried desperately to calm himself.

After several deep breaths, Peter felt slightly calmer, but the fear was still there. He stepped away from the whiteboard, Tony and Steve both hovering around him, twin looks of myriad emotion on their faces. Steve spoke first, his voice soft and reassuring. “Peter, god knows that I don’t want to cause you any more turmoil right now, but there are some things we need to know.”

Peter nodded slowly as Steve all but led him to the table, helping to lower him into a chair. The adrenaline of the panic attack was beginning to fade, quickly being replaced with a bone-deep chill. He shivered as Steve and Tony sat down in front of him, their every move made with the utmost concern for Peter’s well-being.

Steve leaned forward, offering Peter his hand. “Could I-”

Peter shook his head abruptly, pulling back. He couldn’t take the feeling of someone else’s skin on his own right then, even if it was someone he trusted.

Steve nodded, Tony looking stricken but resigned at the significance of the refusal. “Okay, Peter. I’m going to ask you some things, and if you’re not comfortable, you definitely don’t have to tell me, okay? We just want to help-”

“J-Just get it over with.” Peter’s voice was hoarse and heartbreakingly quiet, shattering Tony just a little more than before.

Steve took a deep breath. “Peter, did Skip touch you at that party you went to?”

Peter nodded shakily, biting his lip.

“And did you want him to touch you? Did you consent to it?”

“N-no!” Peter said, voice so terribly young. “He-I was so stupid, dad!”

“Sweetheart, no-”

“I was really drunk.” Peter’s voice shook as he picked at the sleeve of his school sweatshirt. “S-Skip, he said that someone was outside to pick me up. I thought it was you, but it wasn’t, and they led me to this b-bedroom and-”

“Wait.” Tony’s voice was like ice. Next to him, Steve’s fists were tightly clenched against his thighs as he struggled to remain calm. “They?”

“J-Joe, I think, and-and I don’t know the other guy’s name, but he was blond and tall.” Peter stared at the ground, face ashen. “They…they took turns.”

Tony stood abruptly, crossing to the window and leaning against the sill as his breath came in sharp bursts, anger flowing off of him in waves. Steve looked like he was going to vomit, a hand pressed over his mouth as his bright blue eyes shone with unshed tears.

Peter couldn’t help it as a sob wrenched out of him, hot shame tearing him apart. “I’m s-sorry! I’m so s-sorry! I didn’t want to, I didn’t-”

“Oh, baby, no…” Tony turned back, guilt flooding his heart as he rushed over to kneel beside Peter. “This is in no way your fault, sweetheart, I promise you.”

“I w-wanted you to be proud of me,” Peter whispered. “I d-didn’t want to be a l-liability.”

“You aren’t,” Tony’s voice cracked as he leaned in, arm wrapping around the back of the chair but not touching Peter. “Honey, when I said that, I was so scared. You and Steve are the most precious things in my life, and if I lost either of you, it would kill me. I am so sorry that I ever said that. I just want to protect you, because-well, you’re my baby.” He smiled sadly, a single tear working its’ way down his cheek. “But, Peter-every day of my life, I am immensely proud to have a son who wants so much to use his abilities to help others. You have never been anything but a blessing; to me, to Steve, to your aunts and uncles, and someday to the team.”

Peter’s quiet sniffles had turned into heaving sobs at some point, and Tony tentatively pulled him into his arms. The teenager shook in his arms, tears soaking into Tony’s suit jacket as Steve laid a hand on each of their shoulders, his head bowed.

“You’ve been through so much, kiddo,” Steve whispered, “and the fact that you chose to come to us and confide in us what happened is proof that you’re incredibly strong.”

“It’s all my f-fault,” Peter mumbled into Tony’s shoulder. “I c-couldn’t-I couldn’t get him off of me, dad, I tried s-so hard, I promise…”

“Shh, Petey,” Tony whispered, voice wrecked as he rocked Peter gently. “I know, baby. It’s okay. This isn’t your fault.”

After a few moments, Peter pulled back, eyes red and swollen as tear tracks glistened on his cheeks. “I d-don’t-I can’t go back to class, can I please just go home? J-just for today?”

“Of course,” Steve said softly, gently stroking Peter’s damp hair off of his forehead. “As long as you need, sweetheart.”

…………….

Peter lay curled up in the back of the limo, wrapped in Steve’s leather jacket and trying desperately to calm his pounding heart. Steve and Tony had sent Peter home after returning to Principal Harris’s office, only to find Skip and his parents gone. They could only assume that Skip had confided what had occurred and they had left before anyone could call the police. Of course, being the two leaders of the Avengers, Steve and Tony had immediately begun the process of tracking the boy down to bring him to justice. Meanwhile, the chauffeur had been tasked with taking Peter back to the tower.

The teenager stared out the window as rain pattered softly against the glass. His heart was still pounding wildly. He had finally told his parents, had confessed what had happened to him, and they didn’t hate him or think he was a liability. Peter knew he still had a long way to go, but things were definitely looking better.

Until his spider-senses shrieked violently in the back of his mind and a semi-truck rammed into the side of the limo, sending them rolling and crashing against the pavement.

When Peter opened his eyes, he was lying on the ceiling of the upside-down car, covered in glass from the shattered windows. He sucked in a shaky breath and sat up slowly, wincing as his hands flattened against the sharp shards littering the ground beneath him. He looked towards the front of the car, trying to see if the chauffeur was still alive. Judging by the impact against the driver’s side, he was probably dead. All Peter could see was an oddly bent arm, dripping with blood.

He took a deep breath, willing himself not to vomit, and began to crawl laboriously towards the shattered window, whimpering as small pieces of glass embedded themselves in his hands and knees. Finally, he collapsed onto the pavement, slick with rain and what looked like a pool of dark, sticky blood, likely from the driver.

Peter did throw up, at that. The acidic bile splattered on the pavement as hot tears spilled out of his eyes, his entire body shaking. A small crowd of people was forming, murmurs and gasps weaving in and out of Peter’s line of hearing. He tried desperately to calm his rapidly uncontrollable breathing patterns as sheer terror threatened to overwhelm him.

A car wreck. A car wreck far too similar to the one that had once killed both of his parents in a single, fated blow. He would have laughed at the irony of it if he wasn’t busy trying to keep himself from sobbing in the middle of the street.

“Get away! Make some room!”

Unfamiliar hands landed on Peter’s shoulders, pulling him up and away from the blood and the glass as his breath came in short, sharp bursts.

“There ya go, buddy. Come on, we’re gonna get you somewhere safe-”

“N-no! No, please, I have to-” Peter yanked himself away, the hands clinging to his damp sweater. “L-let me go! Please!”

The hands tightened around his arm, pulling and pushing him away from the smoldering, smoking wreck that had once been his father’s favorite limousine. The world around him was a blur, made fuzzy by tears and rain. “It’s okay, son. We’re gonna help you, just hold on-”

They turned a corner and a dark van came into view. The roaring in Peter’s head became unbearable, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up as he remembered another time, another place, with another unfamiliar person supposedly leading him to safety. He yanked away, vision coming sharply into focus as the man squeezed Peter’s arm far too tightly in his meaty hands.

“Hey, hold still, you’ve got glass all over you-”

He couldn’t help it-he lashed out, decking the man in the face. He had no idea if this man meant help or harm; but it was too similar. Peter wasn’t about to make another stupid mistake and put his trust in the wrong person again. He threw another punch and bolted as soon as the man let go of his arm to press a hand against his broken nose as he howled in agony.

Peter didn’t know where he was. He ran as fast as his shaky legs would carry him, getting several miles away before he collapsed to his knees in an alleyway, wheezing violently as black spots danced at the edge of his vision. Evening was beginning to give way to night, and he was about to be alone, in the dark, with cuts and bruises covering every inch of him and no idea how to get home. He sagged sideways against the cool brick of the building next to him, shivering as the adrenaline started to wear off and his injuries began to throb and sting.

Steve and Tony would be so worried. Especially once they found the limo.

“Y’know, this’d be a whole lot easier if you wouldn’t run off.”

Peter nearly leapt out of his skin as the deep voice startled him out of his thoughts. Looking towards the front of the alley, he frowned in confusion when he saw Skip’s father standing there, the dark van behind him with an unidentifiable driver inside. The man was smiling weakly, wearing gray hospital scrubs and a black overcoat. His face was splattered with blood from Peter’s getaway attempt.

“Look, kid, I don’t want to hurt you. My son made a stupid mistake. He did something he shouldn’t have, and I’m awful sorry-but I can’t let you ruin his future.” He stepped forward, smile gone as he reached out with a hand. “You just come with me quietly and I promise that I won’t hurt you, okay?”

Peter slowly backed away, staring at the man with narrowed eyes. “What are you going to do?”

“We’re just gonna take you for a little ride, that’s all,” he said softly, following Peter’s movements as he led them further into the alleyway. “Just far enough that you won’t be a threat to Steven’s future.”

Peter tried to keep his voice from shaking as his back hit the wall at the back of the alley, trapping him in. “S-stay away from me. I’m not going anywhere with you.”

The man sighed sadly. “I did warn you.”

The hairs on Peter’s neck stood up in warning before the man lunged, hands outstretched.

Peter dodged out of the way, his mind screaming at him to scale the wall behind him-but he couldn’t. If Mr. Westcott found out about his abilities, things could go from bad to much, much worse. He was trapped, and the man was only getting closer. Blinded by panic, he threw out a fist-but it was no use. Peter felt the man’s large hand close around his neck, pushing him back against the wall and squeezing until he was dangling limply, eyesight going fuzzy around the edges as he struggled to breathe. He felt a slight pinch in the side of his neck, panic flooding through him as he watched the syringe drop from Mr. Westcott’s hand to shatter on the wet cement. Peter fell into his arms, helpless against the powerful drugs overwhelming his system.

His last conscious thought was of his parents before his world went black.

……………

Steve checked his watch, frowning, as Tony stood on his tiptoes, craning his neck to peer down the street.

“It’s nearly twelve. Shouldn’t your driver be back by now?”

“Yeah,” Tony said, worry evident in his voice. He stepped away from the curb, pulling his phone from his pocket. “I’ll give him a call.”

Steve peered across the street at a deli window as they waited at the curb. A small television was playing out the scene of an accident. According to the reporter, the driver was presumed dead, while the passenger, a young boy, had run off.

Steve’s breath caught in his throat as realization cut through him like a knife.

“Tony. Tony, the limo.”

Tony looked up, confusion crossing his face before his eyes fixed on the television across the street. He abruptly dropped his phone to shatter on the sidewalk below, sprinting in the direction of Walnut Avenue with Steve close on his heels.

The car was a smoking pile of wreckage, twisted metal and shattered glass littering the ground as clean-up crews slowly took apart the mess. Blood was splattered across the sidewalk near the driver’s side; nearby, paramedics were covering a body with a sheet. Steve felt his heart drop to his toes as he and Tony ran to them, Tony shouting loudly, panic clear in his voice.

“The passenger! Where is he?”

One of the paramedics looked at him with wide eyes. “Mr. Stark! I-there was a boy, but he ran away-”

“Why?” Tony asked harshly, hands clenching into fists. “Why did he run?”

“Well, one of the onlookers tried to get him away from the wreck, but he punched him in the face and ran off in that direction-”

Steve started running before the man could finish his sentence, Tony close on his heels. They got to the end of the block and Steve studied the sidewalk before pointing to a footprint, the distinctive pattern on the bottom of Peter’s favorite scuffed converse stamped on the sidewalk in blood. They followed the faint footprints for several miles, Tony wheezing with exhaustion by the time the prints disappeared into an alleyway.

Steve stared around the small, dark space in dismay as Tony leaned against the brick wall, coughing as he attempted to steady his breathing. “He’s not here. Damn it!”

“S-Steve-” Tony choked out, vaguely gesturing towards the back of the alley with one hand, “Wha’s that-”

Steve strode over, frowning, and poked at the pile of glass and metal with his toe before leaning down to get a better look. “The heck-oh, no.” He felt a cold chill run through him as he recognized the shattered remains of a syringe. “No. God, please, no.”

Tony limped over, having mostly caught his breath, and stilled behind Steve when he, too, caught on to the meaning of the shards on the ground. “Fuck. You don’t think-”

“Somebody took him.” Steve’s voice was flat as he stared at the glass. “There’s no way this was an accident.”

“We’ve got nothing. Damn it, Steve,” Tony’s voice was shaking, his breath coming in short gasps. “Peter is out there, alone and probably hurt, and we’ve got no way to track him down. He-he could already be-”

“Back to the tower,” Steve commanded, turning and striding towards the entrance to the alleyway. “From there, we can assemble the Avengers and figure out a plan of action.” He extended a hand towards Tony, who took it, struggling to quell the panic rising up inside him as Steve’s face sank into a look of grim determination.

“Nothing’s going to stand in the way of our family bringing Peter home.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, there will be a sequel. I'm sadistic, not evil.


End file.
